


You Are Not Alone

by von_gelmini



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, I'm passing it all off as Regeneration Sickness, Jacobi!Master is younger than when he was on Utopia, M/M, PTSD, Pre-Episode: s01e01 Rose, Rape, Regeneration Sickness, That's my story and I'm sticking to it., The Doctor is waaaaay OOC, The Eighth Doctor is the War Doctor, The Moffat Retcon does not exist, The great LJ migration 2k16, Time War, Violence, non-con, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 03:22:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7204853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/von_gelmini/pseuds/von_gelmini
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perhaps it wasn’t the fall of the Cruciform that frightened the Master so much he hid himself away in a fob watch. Perhaps it was what happened after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are Not Alone

The Doctor couldn’t believe what he had just heard. The High Council was willing to end all time for a victory. The Cruciform had fallen, the Daleks would win. The Time Lords’ best chance of survival, if the Council had their way, was to sacrifice every last being in the entirety of spacetime for their ascension to beings of pure energy. The Doctor was still stunned to even think about it. What gave them the right to decide the fate of everyone in the universe, as if they were nothing but tin figures at a child’s feet? The audacity shamed him. This could not stand.

He left the Panopticon unnoticed and headed for his TARDIS. He had to figure out something. Something before the vote was finished. He knew how that vote would go. Very few would vote to sacrifice themselves for the survival of the universe when a way out was to be had, no matter the price of it. He could scarcely think. His body shook as he frantically scribbled notations, pushing his long curls out of his face, trying theory after theory. Until... Could he actually do it? Destroy every last one of his people yet save the rest of the universe? No more Gallifrey. No more Time Lords. No home to ever return to. No family left alive. That was the price that millions of races strewn throughout the galaxies were demanding of him.

Tears ran from his eyes as he checked his computations. It would work. But the price. The price. He didn’t have time to think clearly, even if he could. In the end, the decision was made for him. He heard a clamor outside the TARDIS. Councilors were running this way and that, many even screaming as they tried desperately to escape. The dome had been shattered and fire rained down from the Dalek ships above Gallifrey. He saw the Lord President heading for the machinery that would end time. Furiously, the Doctor pounded keys and buttons on the TARDIS. He didn’t have time to make it neat and tidy. Just set the lock in place. He couldn’t stop Gallifrey from burning. It would burn forever. The lock had to contain every last Time Lord and every last Dalek. Locked together in endless battle. Safely away from the rest of time and space.

He saw the flames rolling toward the Panopticon, perched to overtake him. He slipped the TARDIS into the vortex. The Daleks didn’t notice. No one followed him. They were all there for the final assault on his home world. Every last, stinking one of them. With a great sob, he entered the final code and punched the button. The TARDIS lurched, throwing him off the platform into one of the struts and then beyond. Furniture flew around the room as the TARDIS spun around, her inertial dampeners offline, her relativistic gyroscopic controller exploding in a fury of sparks. The Doctor was thrown against a bookcase. The last thing he remembered was it beginning to detach from the wall and fall towards him.

Had he been knocked unconscious? For how long? The bookcase was gone and the console room had changed appearance. Coral scheme. He’d get used to it. He pulled himself along the decking to a railing and tried to get up. His head spun and felt like a bomb had gone off between his ears. He felt the too-familiar shockwave of pain ride through his body. He was arched backward as the atron energy burst forth from him. Regeneration. He didn’t even know if it had worked. Had the Daleks taken Gallifrey? The pain spiked through him again and coherent thought was lost, soon followed again by consciousness.

When he woke, his regeneration was complete. His internal sense of time was returning and he knew it had been six days since he’d activated the Time Lock. He keyed the coordinates and emerged from the vortex in orbit of what should’ve been Gallifrey. There was nothing. No planet, no moons, not even the twin suns. All gone. Locked into the Time Lock, unable to emerge and threaten the universe. He reached out his mind. Nothing there. Alone, so totally alone. The terrifying premonition that had been with him since he looked into the Untempered Schism was finally true. He was the last of the Time Lords. And he would be alone for eternity.

Now to see if the sacrifice of Gallifrey had succeeded. He set the TARDIS for Earth, early 21st century. He didn’t want to land on the surface. Not yet. Eventually he’d return, but he was too raw to be around anyone now. He stopped, perched next to a satellite, and took readings on the blue planet below. 6 billion humans, more or less. Just the right level of technologic advances for the time period. No indication from the news broadcasts that anything untoward had happened here. It worked. Time and space were safe.

A rage boiled inside him and its name was Dalek. But gone, his anger had no vent. It chewed inside him as he travelled to different worlds and times to make sure all was as it should’ve been. He went nearly back to Event One, and forward to the very edge of the heat death of the universe, 100,000,000,000,000 years in the future. He needed to see that all was moving along as it should be. Needed to make sure that the sacrifice had been worth it. That the pain he felt in his hearts, and the hate that ran through his veins, was worth it. It was there, so far into the future, that he heard it. The four beat rhythm of a Time Lord’s heart. The rhythm not his own.

He rematerialized the TARDIS as close to the sound as he dared. Locking the TARDIS behind him, he followed the sound down twisting corridors until he came to a lab. Here. He felt it. He looked around and saw him. Another Time Lord. And then he recognized him. It didn’t matter what form a regeneration might take, a Time Lord always knew another of his kind, and that other’s identity. “Master,” he spat the name. 

“Doctor!” There was a tinge of fear to the voice. “The Cruciform. Gallifrey. It fell?”

The Doctor shuddered. “Gone.”

“The Daleks?”

“Gone.” He watched the fear leave the Master’s eyes only to be replaced by the dark lust - lust for power, lust for conquest, lust for war, and just plain lust - that had always been the primum movens of the Master’s lives.

“No,” the Doctor growled, closing the distance between them. “You will not.”

“I don’t even begin to know what you’re thinking, Doctor. The war and your new regeneration has addled your brain.”

“The conquest, the bloodshed, the destruction. There has been enough!” he roared, steely blue eyes hard set. “I will stop you.”

The Master laughed. “You can’t stop me, Doctor. You have never been able to stop me.” 

The Doctor’s arm was suddenly at the Master’s throat, pressing hard, forcing him against the wall. “I am different now. Do you know what the Daleks called me?” The Master couldn’t answer, the Doctor’s arm was cutting off his breath. “I am the Oncoming Storm, Master. And You. Will. NOT.” He eased back his arm just enough to let the Master gasp for air.

Their bodies pressed together, the Doctor felt the Master’s erection against his thigh. He snorted derisively. Reaching down, he gave the package a tight squeeze with his strong fingers. The Master gasped and flinched, but grew harder in his hand. “You disgust me,” the Doctor said, grinding himself against the Master, not releasing his hand. He fumbled at the Master’s trousers, tearing the fabric. He pinned him to the wall with his body and with both hands yanked his trousers and pants down to his knees. He grabbed the Master’s balls and cock and twisted, hard. Tears came to his eyes and yet he bucked into the Doctor’s painful touch. 

The Doctor released his hand, and taking him by the shoulders, spun the Master around to face the wall. He spread his hand across the Master’s back, leaning in with his strength and weight, pinning him tightly. One handed, he loosened his own trousers and freed his erection. He positioned himself at the Master’s arse, frotting up along his crack. After a few quick glides, he let the head of his cock find the Master’s arsehole. Unprepared, and with the Master’s new body being virgin (or nearly so), the thrust hurt them both. But it hurt the Master more, and that thought kept the Doctor going.

The Master cried out each time the Doctor pounded into him, but it didn’t take long until the cries were punctuated with moans. 

The Doctor grunted and growled, and his breaths quickened. The Master felt so tight around him, the blood thrumming with the four-four beat of the Time Lord’s hearts. You are not alone, he thought as he fucked the Master’s hot arse. Not. (thrust) Alone. (thrust) Not. (thrust) The last. The Doctor threw his head back and groaned loudly as he filled the Master’s arse with his come.

He collapsed against the Master, panting, slick with sweat. The Master reached back behind himself to pull the Doctor closer and held him tightly until their breaths both settled into their natural rhythm. The Doctor stepped back and pulled up his trousers. Their velvet texture felt alien to him. Bit of a ponce in my previous regeneration, he thought. He’d find something in the wardrobe room that suited him better.

The Master gathered his trousers and fastened them. He looked askance at the Doctor. The other Time Lord wasn’t paying attention. Before the Doctor could realize what happened, the Master had the stun gun aimed at his head. He fired while the Doctor was still looking away. He collapsed to the floor. A stun from that close of a range, at that intensity, the Doctor’s memories would be scrambled. Just to make sure, the Master touched his temples and reached into the Doctor’s mind. He plucked every memory of what had just happened from the Doctor’s mind. The Doctor had never found him. As far as he would know, he was the last Time Lord in existence. The Master dragged his unconscious body back to his TARDIS and tossed him in. He quickly punched up random coordinates and set the activator to a timer. He went back to his lab, hearing the grind of her engine take the Doctor away.

And what for him? Where was he to go that the Doctor would never find him and do this again. He fiddled with the fob watch in his pocket. A chameleon arch. He would be human, untraceable by the Time Lord. And his memory of what the Doctor had done to him would be gone. But especially, he would forget how good it felt to have his old friend painfully deep inside of him.

He pressed the stem of the watch.


End file.
